


Enigma

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama, Future, No Slash, Points of View, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-02
Updated: 2006-02-26
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Post 513.  "You, [Justin], heard the conductor's voice echo through the intercom system on the train and increased your grip on his hips as you looked down to see your dick disappear into the tightness that was his ass".  Justin's POV - returning home.  A few things have changed, what'll remain the same?much sex ensues.... one take on season 6.





	1. Chapter 1: Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Vague 513 spoilers. Let's see how far this'll go ... reviews are always welcome! 

This is more of a prequel than anything.

inâ€¢terâ€¢lude (n.)   
1\. An intervening episode, feature, or period of time  
2\. A brief performance before sections of another performance

* * *

_Time can bring you down_  
Time can bend your knees   
Time can break your heart   
Have you begging please 

_-Eric Clapton, Tears in Heaven_

 

*~*~*~*~*

You think you’re doing okay without him, that you’ve finally moved forward on your own, to pursue your own talent with a passion that rivaled his sexual appetite.

Except you haven’t. And even you know that’s bullshit.

When you’re alone, the quietness seems empty and the emptiness seems even quieter - if that makes any sense. But you weren’t used to things making sense in your head now-a-days, especially now that the phone stopped ringing as much and you were too engrossed in your own work to notice the absence of anyone else – friend or foe. It was times unlike this when you were perched on the ledge of your window, watching as cars drove by in a hurry, only to be blurred momentarily by the raindrops that, appropriately, fell from the sky and decided to end their short-lived lives on your window.

You shook your head to rouse yourself from the reverie and reminded yourself that _it’s only time_.

Yeah, right.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

While Justin was in New York, you found yourself being dragged to Ben&Michael’s family-friendly dinners on more occasions than you ordinarily would’ve been comfortable with and if that didn’t make your dick soft enough, you finally realized it was time to draw the line when Mikey started calling you to come over to help Hunter out with his calculus homework.

“But you always did amazing in calculus and remember that one time you finished that exam fifteen minutes after she handed it out so that you could get blown in the boys bathroom while everyone else was writing their exams?”

God. You remembered. The kid had braces -- enough said. 

“Uh huh”, you fumbled through the _junk_ drawer that took up residence in your kitchen for a lighter while he droned on, refusing to remember that it was Justin who created said _junk_ drawer, because Brian Kinney didn’t do … ah, who where you kidding …

You tossed the phone into the sink, hoping that the battery would die before Michael finished talking. You usually weren’t this irritable, but you couldn’t help but be slightly pissed at the current state of affairs.

You lit your cigarette and laid back on the floor in the middle of your loft. No one was there to see you and, not for the first time, you repeated your stupid mantra over and over and over.

_It’s only time, it’s only time, it’s only time._

Yeah, right.


	2. Chapter 2: Enigma

  
Author's notes: This chapter might sound a bit familiar ... I polished it up a bit and decided to put it into a fic that was longer than just one chapter of a story that's never updated ... more to come *eyes filled notebook to prove it*.  
  
  
eâ€¢nigâ€¢ma (n.)  
1\. One that is puzzling, ambiguous, or inexplicable.  
2\. A perplexing speech or text; a riddle.  


* * *

_I never dreamed that you'd be mine  
But here we are, we're here tonight_

_-Nickleback, If Everyone Cared_

*~*~*~*~*

**present day**

**Justin's POV**

You eyed a sexy brunette as he walked by, subtly favoring his left leg. You smirked as you imagined the sex position he was probably in earlier which could’ve caused such discomfort.

You knew you had a bored expression on your face, but waiting had never been your strong suit. 

Persistence, yes. Patience, no. 

Your eyes idly traveled around the train station. Fat people, almost-fat people, beer-bellies, pot-bellies, double-chins, triple-chins, (you shuddered) quadruple chins … christ, didn’t anyone give a shit about what they looked like anymore? You laughed out loud as a picture of Brian with love-handles popped into your head. Your laughter died instantly when you realized he probably could have love-handles as it’s been that long since you’ve actually seen him last. 

436 days. Not that you were counting.

You twisted your head to look at the clock behind you, next to the board of departing trains and the track numbers. It had to be rush-hour - that or a massive funeral everybody was about to attend as you were suddenly swarmed by a sea of black-suits. They all looked like penguins. Well dressed, cell phone-and-iPod-carrying penguins. You ignore the pang of loneliness you felt in your gut as your mind drifted to Brian for what had to be the 47389258 time since you left. But being around these businessmen reminded you of Brian in his grey Armani suit … Brian stripping out of his grey Armani suit … Brian bending over to hang up his grey Armani suit before stroking his cock, ready to plow your ass with-.

“Would you have enough space if I sat here?”

“Yeah” you huffed. Glancing up with a raised eyebrow at the person who obviously thought you needed more than half the bench. Your bubble butt hasn’t gotten that big – you clench your ass-cheeks together as if proving your point. He was currently bent over, pulling the straps closed on his over-stuffed bag in a feeble attempt to shut it. You couldn’t see his face, but that was okay as you had front-row seats to the beauty that was his ass – encased in Diesel jeans. You clenched your ass once again as you felt your crotch stir and you imagined bending him over a hard surface to work him over with your cock.

Being in New York had totally brought out the top in you. That and no one’s cock could measure up to how orgasmic Brian’s felt inside you. You made a mental note not to tell him that – he didn’t need his ego stroked anymore – your, however brief, phone-conversations assured you he remained cocky enough. Speaking of cocks and stroking, you glanced back up at Diesel-ass, licking your lips as his shirt rode up a bit, revealing a finely tanned and toned abdomen.

“Down boy!” 

You heard a lady snap behind you, and you quickly placed a hand to cover your hard-on. You heard a dog bark and realized she wasn’t talking to you. You looked up to notice that Diesel-ass apparently succeeded in closing his bag as his ass wasn’t obstructing your face anymore. You should’ve licked him when you had the chance and decided to move your hand from your crotch as you were probably about to violate another pointless New York law about masturbating in a Train Station three feet away from a dog. 

It actually sounds like a porno you accidentally rented once.

You realized Diesel-ass had his eyes glued to your hand as you removed it from your private area. You looked at him, realizing he was hot and you wondered if he was gay. You felt an explanation was necessary as your hand moved. “Just checking to make sure it’s still there”. 

 

“I’d be glad to do a more thorough check, just to make sure”

You smile. Homo’s 1, Hetero’s 0.

“What train are you taking?”, you ask him, mentally calculating how many minutes and in how many positions you could fuck him in before boarding your train.

“The one to Pitts”. He looked hopeful.

You leaned back in your seat with a smirk. “What a coincidence”.

_The 18:10 train to Pittsburg is now boarding, please proceed to track 6-B to board the train._

You reached down to grasp your luggage and refused to give a moments thought to the fact that _hopefully_ this'll be the last time you'd have to picture Brian while doing this just so you could cum. 

 

*~*~*~*~*

**_“ALL ABOARD!!”_ **

You heard the conductor's voice echo through the intercom system on the train and increased your grip on his hips as you looked down to see your dick disappear into the tightness that was his ass. The train abruptly shot forward as it left the station and you adjusted yourself in the small sole-person bathroom, using the motion of the train to your advantage.

A thought popped into your head while you continued your thrusts. Was this how Emmett’s pickled-sugar-daddy was fucking him before he died? You banished that thought back to wherever it came from and moved your hand from where it was currently holding his ass in place, almost suspended in the air, angled slightly upward as the motion from the train enabled you to hit *that* spot each time you pushed forward. You pulled his ass back, watching again as it swallowed your dick again and tried to maneuver yourself in the close quarters to your goal: his neglected cock. 

Diesel-ass told you, without words, what a great fuck you where when he came with a scream (muffled by his forearm) without you even touching his cock. His ass clamping around your dick was all it really took to do you in as well. You came with a grunt, ignoring the feeling of guilt and masked it with ease.

Glancing at your self-satisfied smirk in the mirror, you reached down to hold the filled condom in place as you moved to pull out. He was still muttering incoherently, breathing heavily in his post-orgasmic state and you suddenly stilled when you heard him rasp “I love you”.

Your head snapped up as you remembered how Brian, in that same raspy tone, told you that he loved you for the first time after Babylon exploded. 

You quickly pulled the rest of yourself out of him.

Guilt-produced anger was now bubbling below the surface and you placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him harshly around to face you. Thinking you were ready for round two, he licked his lips and reached for your cock. You smacked his hand away and told him to fuck off, throwing his tight ass – and Diesel jeans – out of the bathroom. 

Sitting down on the closed toilet with a huff, you regretted leaving your cigarettes in your bag back at your seat, pointedly not looking at the NO SMOKING sign that was posted on the door. 

No, Brian didn’t rub off on you at all. Not at all…

*~*~*~*~*

You were arriving back to Pittsburg sooner than expected – Brian expected you back for Christmas and you thought fuck Christmas. (You really couldn’t help picturing that time you walked in on Santa and his elf going at it in the bathroom of that New York mall last Christmas). You decided to come home when it just didn’t feel right anymore. Having sold every piece at your last gallery certainly had an effect on your decision. You wanted to come back sooner – for good – when you proved to yourself that you could hold your own, walk your own path and become a big fat fucking success doing something that was almost lost to you. 

You snorted at how lesbianic you were suddenly sounding and decided it was time for a drink.

Flagging down an attendant, you repressed the shudder you felt when her silicone DD-cups came too close for comfort.

Isn’t there a pole you should be stripping against? you wanted to ask her, but decided against it when you realized she was between you and the alcohol. 

A double shot of Tequila (too bad they didn’t serve Margarita’s) later seemed to do the trick. Speaking of doing the trick, you noticed Diesel-ass was sending daggers your way and pointedly turned to look outside. It was night outside and with the bright lights inside the train, you caught yourself staring back at your reflection. You reached up and brushed a few strands of your hair back, wondering what Brian would say about your ink-black locks.

You figured new place, new look … only you didn’t initially plan for it to come out as dark. You figured it was for the best as you were planning to dye it brown because it reminded you of Brian. You refrained against doing that because using your hair to embody him seemed a bit too creepy after you gave it a second thought. You thought about red, but you didn’t want Debbie on your head either so you settled with the last option: black.

Although the darker strands allowed your blue eyes to stand out, it made your skin look paler, so you had to go off tanning and of course, after discovering the many ways Dolce & Gabanna could encase your body in the sexiest way possible … before you knew it, you changed. How you felt about Brian changed too – it intensified and you knew for sure that it was love. Not that you ever had a doubt. Sure. Time for another shot.

*~*~*~*~*

You switched the bag over to the next hand when you realized your left hand was shaking. You blamed it on the bat you took to the head, refusing to admit you where actually nervous about seeing Brian after all this time. 437 days.

You stood in front of the loft door for a few moments, contemplating whether you should stop being a pussy and go in or turn around and puke. You decided the latter was too messy and raised your eyebrows when you heard a grunt that clearly came from Brian from within. You couldn’t help it as your cock stood to attention. The thought of him fucking some guys didn’t seem to immediately faze you (you blamed this on your erection and the fact that you had to go the rest of the train ride without said erection after the stripper – er, attendant – kept pulling down her shirt to reveal more of her manufactured breasts). You suddenly wanted to see Brian in action, his tight body glistening in sweat as his ass clenched each time he fucked, his strong hands holding the other in place as he gilded his cock in and out, throwing his head back as his breath came in short pants. 

You put the key into the door and the lock was twisted open quickly as if anticipating your key. You finally pulled the loft door open and walked purposefully in, dropping your bag by the door. Heading towards the bed, you suddenly stopped on the second stair as your jaw dropped in shock.

He wasn’t fucking, (unless that’s what you call re-arranging the furniture in your bedroom).

No, it wasn’t the fact that Brian was alone on a Friday night, or the fact that he was moving around his furniture naked that shocked you.

It was his head of dirty-blond hair that snapped up when you uttered “oh fuck” in shock, alerting him of your presence.

And, of course, dirty-blond looked just as fucking sexy as brown - he pulled off the hairstyle immaculately (figures he should succeed where Ted failed miserably); you where afraid to touch your cock, knowing you would cum the moment you did.


End file.
